Silence weighed heavily over Kuran's Fall.
Even the wind refused to whisper through the ruins, as if the stones themselves remembered what had once happened here — and feared its return.
Mo Lianyin stood before the crumbled monument, his hand hovering just above the shattered plaque. Crimson threads from the Crimson Oath pulsed faintly beneath his skin, glowing in patterns too ancient to decipher.
Auren kept a cautious distance, watching the way the dust around Lianyin trembled with each breath he took.
"This place… it feels alive," Auren said quietly.
"It is," Lianyin replied without looking back. "Or at least… it's still dreaming."
Auren frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lianyin knelt and touched the ground.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then — a rumble.
Low. Deep. Not from beneath the earth, but beneath time itself.
The ruins pulsed. Ash lifted. And the broken city began to glow with red veins of memory.
Auren's eyes widened as translucent silhouettes flickered into view — ghostly echoes of what once was. Children playing near the fountain. Merchants arguing over prices. Monks ringing bells at sunset.
Then screams.
The visions shifted.
Smoke. Fire. Blood.
The massacre of Kuran.
A child crying as flames devoured the temple.
A woman with white hair reaching for her son—
And Lianyin flinched.
His breath hitched. "That's her."
Auren stepped forward. "Who?"
"My mother."
---
Kuran's Fall. Twenty years ago.
The city had not fallen to war.
It had been sacrificed.
On a moonless night, the Five Great Clans made a pact with the heavens. To seal the Forbidden Arts, they needed a place soaked in potential — a city full of cultivators, scholars, dreamers.
So they chose Kuran.
And they turned its heart into a binding seal.
The people didn't know.
Until the sky cracked open.
Until gods fell in silence.
Until the children stopped breathing.
Until Mo Lianyin's first cry became the last sound his mother ever heard.
---
Lianyin's fingers dug into the ground.
"She tried to hide me," he whispered. "She knew. She begged them not to take me. She gave her life to shield me from the seal. But it didn't matter."
His voice cracked.
"They still used me."
Auren's chest ached. He stepped closer. "Lianyin, you don't have to carry this alone."
Lianyin rose slowly, his expression unreadable. "I've always carried it alone."
And yet…
He looked at Auren — really looked.
And something in his expression softened, even if just for a breath.
Then, a sudden gust of wind ripped through the ruins. The glowing veins of memory snapped. The vision scattered like torn silk.
They weren't alone anymore.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.
Zevian Vale.
"I wondered how long it would take you to uncover this place," he said, his voice smooth like poisoned wine. "I had hoped you would never remember."
Lianyin's eyes narrowed. "You knew."
Zevian smiled. "I helped plan it."
Auren stepped in front of Lianyin instinctively. "You bastard—"
A flick of Zevian's wrist sent Auren flying into a pillar. The stone cracked from the force. Blood trailed from Auren's mouth as he collapsed to the ground.
"Do not interrupt," Zevian hissed.
Lianyin's aura exploded.
In a breath, he was no longer mortal.
The air bent around him. His white hair floated upward like smoke. His eyes were molten red.
"You planned the slaughter," Lianyin growled. "You helped kill her."
"She was a liability," Zevian said. "You were the goal. You were meant to be the perfect vessel."
He stepped closer, arms wide. "And now look at you. You are. All that pain — all that hatred — it made you divine."
Lianyin summoned a blade from his palm, forged entirely from the crimson light of the Oath.
It hissed with unholy fire.
"I am not your vessel," he spat. "I am your end."
---
They clashed.
Blade against spell. Fire against shadow.
The sky wept sparks as their battle tore through the air.
Zevian was faster. Older. He knew how to strike the mind, not just the flesh. He whispered memories that weren't his to wield, twisted illusions of Lianyin's mother dying over and over again.
But Lianyin didn't falter.
Because for the first time…
He had something to protect.
He turned mid-air and flung a shield of flame toward Auren's crumpled body.
It shimmered — held.
Zevian's smirk faltered.
"Still clinging to weakness?" he jeered.
"No," Lianyin said, landing on the ground like a god descending from wrath. "Clinging to choice."
And with one final strike — powered not by hate, but grief, love, and a truth reclaimed — he drove his blade through Zevian's heart.
The older man gasped.
And for a brief second… he smiled.
"You're ready," Zevian whispered. "Now… they'll come."
Lianyin stepped back as Zevian's body disintegrated into ash, the same color as the city he once betrayed.
A heavy silence followed.
Only Auren's faint groan reminded Lianyin that this moment had not been a dream.
He rushed to his friend's side, lifting his head gently. "Auren…"
"I'm fine," Auren mumbled, voice hoarse. "Just… maybe a cracked rib."
Lianyin let out a shaky laugh. "Idiot. You always try to protect people stronger than you."
"Only when they forget they're still human," Auren replied.
Lianyin stared down at him.
And for the first time in years…
He wept.
---
Far above, beyond mortal sight, in the sky-temples that overlooked destiny, the gods stirred.
The seal was breaking.
One of their weapons had turned into a willful storm.
The other…
Still slumbered.
But not for long.